Hidden Liaisons
by hear-me-roar
Summary: How did Jack come upon Bootstrap Bill? And why didn't Bill take too well to the mutiny? Here are the answers in a prequel to POTC. Rated R Het JBB(Go wme on this one, it's really not slash) Please RR!
1. Prologue

Hidden Liaisons-A Prequel to Pirates of the Caribbean  
  
Author: hear-me-roar  
  
Rating: R  
  
Archive: That'd be awesome, just let me know and attribute properly and such.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own POTC. I wish I did, but I don't. But if you steal Evie or any other originals I'll hunt you down and tickle you with a feather. And it's much worse than it sounds. ;)  
  
The sun's rays were reaching their last tendrils over the surface of the sea, painting it a deep turquoise. A few twinkling stars shown at the sky's zenith, waiting for their kindred to join them.  
Jack sighed softly, watching the calm water lap lazily at his boat as it turned from turquoise to black. In his hands were several stems of orchids and tendrils of jasmine. A tear slid down his face, unbidden, but nevertheless, inevitable. The sea grew smooth and the stars reflected on its glasslike surface, erasing the need to crane one's neck to see the stars. Moving closer to the rail he let the flowers float softly to the surface of the water, breaking the silent tranquility.  
She was finally dead, most likely after enduring madness beyond human comprehension. Only after the fact had Jack learned of her terrible fate, how she was still alive in those murky depths. At least she rested now, swimming in her own private heaven of stars and beauty. 


	2. Kindred Sorrow

Hidden Liaisons iA Prequel to Pirates of the Caribbean/i  
  
Author: hear-me-roar  
  
Rating: R  
  
Archive: That'd be awesome, just let me know and attribute properly and such.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own POTC. I wish I did, but I don't. But if you steal Evie or any other originals I'll hunt you down and tickle you with a feather. And it's much worse than it sounds. ;)  
  
The sun was setting and Commander Telling's knowledge of nautical endeavors didn't seem as if it would run dry anytime soon. Evie repressed a sigh and turned her eyes back to Commander Teller, feigning interest.  
"-however, when the sails are aback, that is when the sails are pressed aft against the mast by the wind we-" Evie drifted off again, staring at the sunset spread before her sinking into its twin on the Thames.  
"Miss Turner?" Teller was looking at her expectantly.  
"Yes? Oh I'm sorry Commander, the night is getting the better of me," said Evie with a fake yawn behind her fan.  
"Perhaps you should retire, it is getting late," said Commander Teller with a short smile, "I'll see you to your chambers-"  
"Thank you Commander, but I think I can manage," said Evie as she rose and curtsied, walking back into the penthouse her Father had managed to procure for the summer months. He didn't take to the oppressive heat of the West Indies well.  
"I shall see you on the morrow, Miss Turner," said Commander Teller with a bow.  
"Hopefully not," muttered Evie, dropping her fan unceremoniously on the table in her parlor.  
"Evie," came the soft reprimand from the corner. Her Father stood there, giving her a look of disappointment.  
"Please, Father, I am tired and-"  
"If Commander Telling is not to your preference then I will find-"  
"I will not have you play matchmaker for me!" yelled Evie, slamming her bedroom door behind her, scowling at the maid who immediately let herself out of the servants' entrance. Evie didn't blame her. When she battled with her Father about suitors the room cleared rather quickly. Her Father barged in, not bothering to knock and shaking his fist at her, "You're of proper age to be married and Commander Telling is a fine gentleman who will take care of you."  
"I do not want someone to take care of me, I want someone to love me," said Evie as she grabbed her gloves and purse.  
"Where are you going young lady?" he asked, blocking the doorway.  
"I am going out," she said, moving to walk around him.  
"Not without an escort."  
"I don't need an escort," said Evie, walking out the door.  
"GENEVIEVE TURNER! COME BACK HERE THIS INSTANT!"  
Evie rolled her eyes at her Father, wishing he would just give up on his efforts to turn her into a civilized lady. It was a doomed mission. At least she allowed herself to be dressed in the outrageous finery of the London aristocracy.  
After several blocks and a turned corner, Evie found herself in the less favorable district of London, which was saying something as most of London was less favorable, at the Kent Tavern.  
The interior was dark and smoky, leaving much to the imagination of the patrons whose reason in life was to lose themselves. The only noise was a faint murmur coming from subdued conversations and the tinkling of a piano being played by an elderly man. It wasn't the height of excitement but Evie knew better than to frequent the rougher bars. All their clients wanted was a strong drink and a weak woman, not that she weak by any means. Though the aristocracy frowned on strong women, she still tried to stay in good enough shape so that she could walk several blocks without fainting, unlike some of her peers.  
"Absinthe please," said Evie, placing several shillings on the counter. Michael, the barkeep, knew better than to ask questions and placed the drink in front of her, without the usual sugar and sieved spoon. Evie downed the brew, leaning against the bar and musing over her Father's words. He had been pushing all sorts of suitors upon her but Commander Telling was the latest. He was a man of thirty-seven with a large nose and a wheezing voice. Telling all but kissed her Father's arse in his duties to the ambassador of the West Indies.  
The door swung open and a rather bedraggled man came in. He stumbled over to the counter, staggering slightly from the wounds he bared. His back ached and he knew that one of his eyes was blackened and swelling. He managed to make it to a stool and laid his face against the cool grain of the counter.  
"Usual Jack?" asked Michael gently. Jack nodded and than closed his eyes, a tear still managing to escape the confines of his lids. Michael turned back to pour the rum and sighed softly. He felt sorry for the young man, seeing what he had to endure from his Father, one the lords of parliament who tended towards drunken rages at his son's love for the fantasy of Shakespeare, rather than the philosophy of Locke. He remembered seeing Jack in here after trying to run away to Canterbury to study for priesthood, completely broken, physically and emotionally.  
Michael placed the drink in front of Jack and patted the youths hand before going to pour another Absinthe. Jack took the rum and sipped at it slowly, wincing as the alcohol stung his broken lips. His Father's annual ball had driven him to the manor's library to dwell in Scotland with Macbeth, who had just killed Duncan. He rather liked the tale, wishing he had the strength to do such a thing to his Father. The chamberlain had found him there and then scurried to find his Father, who had been none too pleased. But Jack knew he had gotten off easy and was relieved at the fact.  
Michael placed another Absinthe in front of Evie. The young woman's ability to hold her liquor still amazed him.  
"What's wrong with him?" asked Evie, motioning to the young man who was gingerly sipping at his drink.  
"His Father's a loony old bastard," said the barkeep instantly. "Oh, quite sorry milady, excuse my language."  
"It's quite alright Michael, I myself have said worse," said Evie with a smile.  
"He's a lonely fellow, never seen him with anybody. Male or female."  
"Michael!" said Evie in mock indignation. Michael smiled and went back to cleaning glasses. Evie sat in contemplation for a moment weighing her options and decided in favor of the one that would anger her Father the most. Taking her drink she moved down to sit next to the young man.  
"Sod off," he muttered as he heard her sit down next to him. But as Jack heard the rustle of skirts he looked up to find a young woman sitting next to him, her lavender eyes filled with sympathy. "Oh, I'm sorry miss, I didn't realize-"  
"Why does everyone think that it pains women to hear such oaths?" asked Evie, more to herself than to the young man beside her. "Now, how awful is this Father of yours?"  
"Michael has a loose mouth," said Jack as he threw the barkeep a murderous look. "Indeed he does. So what of your Father?"  
"He's not that bad."  
"Bullshit."  
"Pardon me, Miss.."  
"Turner, Genevieve Turner. But everyone calls me Evie," she said, extending her hand. Jack took it and kissed it lightly, blushing as he did so. "Delighted. I'm Jack Sparrow."  
"Sparrow. What an interesting name."  
"It is rather queer-"  
"No, I like it," said Evie with a reassuring smile.  
"Thank you, Miss Turner-"  
"Please, call me Evie. Only my Father's friends call me Miss Turner."  
"Alright then," said Jack unsurely. "Anyway, you're not covered from head to toe in bruises, most likely with a few broken bones as well, and saying that he's 'alright'."  
"Well.."  
"Spit it out."  
"FINE! He's a bloody stupid git who can't appreciate the works of masters!" Evie stared at him in surprise. She had been expecting the youth to be a scoundrel who couldn't keep out of bars and brothels, not that he looked the part. With his black hair and chocolate eyes, well.. He was quite charming actually.  
"He doesn't understand that Shakespeare is one of the great minds of our time! All he cares about are politics and parties," he said with a derisive snort, drawing Evie back to his tirade.  
"At least you don't have your Father shoving suitors-"  
"Are you joking? I have 'suitable' girls shoved at me right and left. "Oh Jack, this is Lord Something-or-others daughter. This is the Kings third cousin's niece. It's enough to drive a man mad!"  
"Oh I know, my Father wants to wed me to one of his men, Commander Tell. He's such a stodgy bloke, all business and proper decorum. God, the man knows more ways to bow than the Queen has jewels," said Evie with a laugh which Jack found infectious. He'd never found it so easy to laugh, especially after one of his Father's beatings. Evie smiled and downed her drink, setting it upon the counter. "As much as I hate to leave present company I should return home before my Father calls out Scotland Yard so that my honor won't be impugned."  
"I could see you home," said Jack cautiously, "I mean, I see you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself-"  
"I would like that," said Evie, cutting off his rambling. Jack stood slowly, offering his arm which Evie happily took.  
They walked the few blocks to Evie's penthouse in companionable mirth, talking of the theater and books that most Lords turned their noses to. When they finally arrived both were grinning and in good humor, a rapid change from their arrival at the tavern.  
Jack bade goodnight and watched her climb the stair when he fancied himself a risk, "Evie?"  
"Yes Jack?" asked Evie, turning from the door.  
"Might you accompany me to the theater tomorrow? There's to be a showing of Macbeth."  
"I'd love to," said Evie genuinely. "Goodnight Jack."  
"Take care, Evie," said Jack as the door closed, leaving him to find his way home, hoping that his Father had retired to his chambers. The streetlamps barely lit the London streets, throwing detail into oblivion. None of this matter to Jack as he was too deep in his own thoughts to admire the architecture of this well to do district.  
He climbed the steps of his Father's house slowly, dreading every footfall like an iron-plated whip. Fishing in his pocket he found the key to the house and let himself in quietly, throwing the bolt behind him. He slipped off his shoes and climbed the stairs, jumping the third creaking step as not to arouse any of the household staff. Jack made it down the hallway and safely into his room, only sighing when the both his and the servants' door were locked.  
Shedding his coat and stockings he rummaged in his chest of drawers, fingers finally closing upon a well worn leather cover with Macbeth proudly emblazoned on the cover. Jack had paid good money for the book, seeing as Shakespeare personally locked all of his scripts in a vault after each performance. Yet a few of the actors could be bribed to transcribe their lines, creating a few pirated copies to be had for a small fortune. Being the son of a Lord had its perks, one being access to previously mentioned small fortune. Jack settled into his bed and opened the book to where the murdered Duncan was discovered, easily being whisked away to where his current problems were of no matter. 


	3. Building Dreams

Hidden Liaisons A Prequel to Pirates of the Caribbean  
  
Author: hear-me-roar  
  
Rating: R  
  
Archive: That'd be awesome, just let me know and attribute properly and such.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own POTC. I wish I did, but I don't. But if you steal Evie or any other originals I'll hunt you down and tickle you with a feather. And it's much worse than it sounds. ;)  
  
Evie sat in her room, brushing out her hair while humming softly to herself.  
"So, who is he?" asked a voice from the door. Evie glanced back and smiled at Faith, her sister who was peeking in the door. Evie beckoned and Faith closed the door, coming to sit on the bed besides her. "So?"  
"His name is Jack Sparrow," said Evie as picked out a pair of earrings fashioned from small pieces of polished abalone.  
"Jack Sparrow? Do you mean Lord Sparrow's son? I've heard tales of him, that he's the black sheep of the family," said Faith, tucking her legs beneath her.  
"That doesn't surprise me in the least," said Evie. She considered telling Faith of how Lord Sparrow treated his son but decided better of it. Jack had trusted her with that confidence and she wouldn't be the one to betray it.  
"They say he prefers books over women."  
"But he his quite charming and he has a smart wit. Besides that, he's quite handsome," Evie said with a giggle that Faith joined in upon.  
"It figures nicely that you would find such a man charming. Only desperate Lords and higher merchants take their daughters to him.  
Evie hesitated slightly before asking what she knew would bring bad memories, "Did Father take you to see him?"  
"Once. However, it lasted nary an hour before Father found out about his queer habits," said Faith quietly, playing with the hem of her shift.  
"I'm sorry, Faith, I didn't mean to bring it up."  
"It's alright, just because I'm as barren as the Sahara doesn't mean that we have to tip toe about the subject," said Faith with a sigh. "I've nearly come to terms with it. And there will be some suitor that doesn't care about children."  
"You will find someone Faith," said Evie, taking her hand, "You're a beautiful girl who has her wits about her and can sew the most beautiful tapestries in all of England and the West Indies besides."  
"Thank you, Evie," said Faith, squeezing her hand and taking leave of her sister. Evie smiled sadly as she watched her sister's retreat before taking the dress she had chosen from her closet and slipping into the silky cage. At least she had convinced Father to not make her wear corsets anymore; those had been the true torture of her wardrobe. Besides, she was dressing for Jack and not for some high dignitary or worse yet, Telling, she thought with a grimace.  
Reaching for her pins she nearly knocked over a small portrait held in silver. Evie caught it deftly and stared at the visage so hauntingly similar to her own with its long black locks and high cheek bones. Everyone had always been amazed by the similarity between mother and youngest daughter. That was before the dreaded pox took of hold of her, sending her into a spiral of sickness and suffering. Evie remembered long hours waiting outside the door, trying to make some sense of the noise the doctors produced during their frequent visits to her mother.  
When her Father was offered the position of Ambassador to the West Indies the doctors urged him to take it, saying that the warm weather would be good for Mother. It was the reason Father never spent the summers there, Mother had always been found of the beauties of the island flora and fauna and it reminded him of her. Father had nearly wiped out every memory and reminder of her, save this one precious photograph he wouldn't dare dispose of.  
A maid knocked at the door timidly before entering, bringing Evie forth from her reverie. She took the clasps at the back of Evie's dress, fastening them with expert speed and snatched the pins, drawing midnight locks back into a simple up-do.  
"Master Sparrow is here," the maid said gently, withdrawing from the room. The thought of Jack brought a smile to Evie's face, washing away the memories of her Mother. Slipping on her slippers she hurried down the stairs, forgetting to take the slow and measured steps of a proper lady.  
Jack grinned at Evie's eagerness, trying his best to ignore the malicious stare of Lord Turner. It is hard to ignore a person who seems to be planning on killing you. "Good Evening Miss Turner," Jack said with a light bow.  
"Mr. Sparrow," said Evie, dropping a courtesy, as was required of her. She then took Jack's arm and all but dragged him out the door, winking at Faith before disappearing out the door. They climbed into the carriage and the coachman took off, leaving the imposing manor behind. Evie had the feeling that her father was already planning on how he would rid himself of Jack.  
"I think your Father was ready to tar and feather me," said Jack with a smile after Evie had settled herself next to him.  
"Oh God, what did he say?" asked Evie, horrified at what her Father might have said.  
"Oh, he said nothing but formalities. It was more in the blood curdling stare he was giving me," said Jack with good humor. Evie giggled helplessly, knowing that particular look, "Oh yes, he's had many a year to perfect that look. I think every Father has their own version for their daughter's suitors."  
"Yes, I do suppose so," said Jack, remembering other such stares, "But I think the stares reserved for me are in the same suit as those turned upon rabid dogs."  
"Oh come, if he thought so of you than he would have sent a chaperon. I must say that I'm quite surprised that he didn't."  
"Maybe he's hoping that I'll take advantage of you and then he'll be rid of you."  
Evie favored Jack with a glare. "As much as escaping my Father thrills me, I do believe there was an insult wrapped in that comment."  
"You've caught me," said Jack, raising his hands in surrender, "Though I meant no offense."  
"And none is taken," said Evie as they pulled up outside of the theater. The footman opened the door and Jack hopped down and turned to take Evie's hand, leading her into the gilt theater.   
  
Evie and Jack exited the theater laughing. Though Macbeth was a tragedy both had found humor in it, even with the hero's demise. They walked arm in arm along the lit streets, catching strains of music coming from the cafes that lined the street. Their coach wasn't due to arrive until an hour later and they were taking full advantage of the time.  
"Evie," said Jack suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence, "I'd like to show you something. But you have to promise not to tell anyone."  
"What would that be?" asked Evie, instantly intrigued.  
"Follow me," said Jack eagerly, taking her hand and leading her to a small shop not a block away. Taking a key from inside the mailbox he unlocked the door and motioned for Evie to follow him inside. Evie managed a glimpse of a sign, Smith and Dooley, before walking into the darkness of the shop. She could vaguely make out desks and ledgers spread throughout the room. Jack took a lamp from one of the desks and lit it nimbly before leading Evie into a small room near the back. The room had barely enough space to hold the desk and books it held, nearly a monk's cloister in its size but had enough space left for a stool and the carved wood leaned against the wall. Jack placed the lamp on the desk and it shed a warm pool of light on his dreams.  
"My God, it's beautiful," said Evie, stepping forward to run her hand over the beech statue, the fist thing to catch her eye. A young woman held a dove in her outstretched palm and had a slight smile on her perfect face.  
"It's for a boat I'm building," said Jack, smiling at the compliment. He had carved the maiden himself over many months. He took her hand and led her to a desk that held countless drawings of the exterior and interior of a ship.  
"You're building a ship?" asked Evie, and seeing his nod went on, "Where will you go? Away from here surely."  
"Yes, as far from here as possible," said Jack, running his hand over one of the sketches. It was his greatest dream, to finally rid himself of London and all his ties to the place.  
"But how did you manage to build all this? Your Father can't possibly approve."  
"Of course not, he'd have a royal fit if he knew what I was doing," Jack said as he placed the lantern down on the desk, "I know the banker who takes care of my Father's finances and he makes sure to leave out enough money for materials and wages each month. It's being built over in Port Royal. Once I get out of here I plan to help build it myself."  
"I'd love to be able to sail away from here," said Evie quietly, thinking of her Father and Commander Telling.  
"That's what this is. It's not just a ship, it's freedom," said Jack, gazing at the drawings fondly. "I've grown weary of my Father's tirades, sick of what he does to.. I just want my own life." "You will have it, Jack," said Evie, taking his hand, "And it shall be the most beautiful boat ever built."  
"It's not even done yet," Jack interjected, gesturing to the skeleton- like hull that spread across the thick parchment.  
"Yes, but I can see-no. I can feel how beautiful it's going to be," said Evie, turning to give Jack a radiant smile.  
"It takes someone beautiful to recognize such things," said Jack quietly, casting his eyes down to study the floor as Evie blushed. Evie took her forwardness to heart and reach out her hand to cup Jack's cheek, bringing his eyes back to hers, "It takes a beautiful mind to create such things, which is certainly more important than any outer vestige of beauty. Though you do seem to have been gifted with both, Jack."  
Jack found himself smiling and pressed Evie's hand to his cheek, relishing its soft touch and overcoming his shyness moved to capture her lips with his. Evie responded in kind, placing her other hand on the back of Jack's neck as he slid an arm about her waist. They parted and both smiled, basking in the innocence of the moment, of not being forced upon each other by parents.  
"That was nice," said Evie, placing her arms around Jack's neck.  
"Very," said Jack, tracing her jaw with his thumb. "However, our Fathers will never allow it."  
"Bugger them," said Evie viciously, making Jack's eyes widen in shock. Evie laughed at his reaction and was silenced as he kissed her yet again, the passion building between them. Evie moved up the exchange, venturing her tongue into Jack's mouth, exploring its dark confines.  
Jack moaned slightly into Evie's mouth and felt the start of a grin on Evie's face as she continued her exploration. She pulled back and gave him a rogue grin.  
"Miss Turner!" Jack said in mock shock, "I can't have you taking advantage of my honor."  
"I take it you liked it," said Evie with a smile. She'd have to remember to thank Faith for that piece of advice.  
Jack looked into Evie's eyes, seemingly mirrors of deep twilight and happiness that was evident in every movement of her being. But unlike other maidens, where those eyes would have cowed at resistance, there was a noble spirit, ready to face whatever life brought her. In that moment, he knew he had found an equal in his own rebellion, someone who could understand the madness behind his dreams.  
"As much as I'd like to remain here, I should take you back to your home. The carriage should await us by now," said Jack. His plans were finally becoming a reality and this room, though small, held the vast expanse of his dreams. Part of Jack's dreams, though he was loathe to admit it, was to find someone to share this freedom with. Someone who would understand what his heart so desired.. And this only served to make him wish this moment and time could last forever, that they would never have to leave this room. It seemed that Evie shared his sentiments, pouting at the thought of returning to her father.  
"All this talk of freedom doesn't make me so inclined," said Evie, taking her arms from Jack's neck reluctantly and retrieving the lamp from the desk. "And that which you liked so much," she said with an impudent grin, "That, my dear Jack, is only the beginning."  
"Whatever do you mean, Evie?" Jack inquired, knowing full well what the maid spoke of and wondering if he was indeed so lucky.  
"I would show you, but as you said, I must hasten home. And you would not wish for me to spoil the surprise, would you?" With that she gave him an impish smile, and blew out the candle, plunging the room into darkness. 


	4. Broken Past

Hidden Liaisons A Prequel to Pirates of the Caribbean  
  
Author: hear-me-roar  
  
Rating: R  
  
Archive: That'd be awesome, just let me know and attribute properly and such.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own POTC. I wish I did, but I don't. But if you steal Evie or any other originals I'll hunt you down and tickle you with a feather. And it's much worse than it sounds. ;)  
  
A/N This chapter is going to be kind of gruesome. I thought I might just warn you. Sorry about it being so short, I'll have up more soon.  
  
Thanks to everybody who's reviewed, it's been a real driving force. I have real issues with writing in chronological order but I'm trying to get it out anyway. :)  
  
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Jack crept into the house as quietly as he could, making sure no servants were about. Removing his shoes as habit bayed him he crept across the floor, watching carefully for any of his father's staff. The library door was open but his Father's back was turned to the fire crackling within.  
He had visited the bookshop after dropping Evie safely home, picking up his precious parcel. The evening had been quite a success in his mind and Jack felt cocky enough to risk smuggling in another book. "Come here boy," said Lord Sparrow, stopping Jack dead in his tracks. He turned to see his father, slightly pink from the decanter of brandy he had consumed. A young woman sat in the corner, her hair slightly mussed and her skirts in a state of disarray. Lord Sparrow beckoned to Jack, throwing out his arm in a gesture of seeming kindness. Jack approached him cautiously, trying to keep his face plain. "What's this of you seeing Turner's girl?"  
Jack shot the chamberlain a nasty look before turning back to his father, "I've been courting her. We've been going to the balls and such."  
"'Bout time you found a girl, I was beginning to worry about your damned phase with books and the like. But no more of that now, you've come to be a proper lad." His breath reeked of brandy and Jack did all he could to not shrink from the repressive odor of it. It never boded well for him. "Now my boy, be off with you, I should tend to these requests from that damned French ambassador. Can't understand the bloke half the time.."  
"Good Evening, Father," said Jack, making good of his father's dismissal. He turned and all but ran for the door, almost to sanctuary when he dropped his glove.  
"Here, my lord, let me see to that," said the chamberlain, reaching for the dropped glove.  
"No it's alright, I have it," said Jack as he reached for the glove. The chamberlain, however, was persistent in his helpfulness and effectively, knocked against Jack, hitting the package secured under Jack's jacket and sending his shoes clattering to the floor.  
"What's this, my lord?" said the chamberlain, taking the package from beneath his arm, "Might I see it to your quarters?" Jack stared at the package, hoping to God that his father was in enough of a drunken stupor not to notice.  
"What's that you've got there Frederick?" asked Lord Sparrow, turning from his desk to study the brown package.  
"An item belonging to your son, it seems," said the chamberlain with a wicked smile. Jack dared not turn towards his father, hoping that if he stayed still enough, he might not endure too much of a tirade.  
"What be that my boy?" asked Lord Sparrow, turning on his son. Jack saw his hand reach for the poker by the mantle, knuckles whitening as they gripped the iron length.  
"It's nothing, Father, just a book for my studies-"  
"See it here Frederick," Lord Sparrow barked, reaching out for the book. The chamberlain handed the book to him and Lord Sparrow made short work of the brown paper, exposing red leather embossed with gold script that proclaimed 'Hamlet' proudly. The girl caught sight of the title along with the growing mood of discontent and made her way to the door, politely but too quickly.  
"What is this?"  
"My tutors-"  
"Your damned tutors didn't tell you of this!" shouted Lord Turner, his face turning scarlet, "I thought we were clear that these books wouldn't enter my house!"  
Jack didn't answer, knowing that to do so would result in very painful consequences. Lord Sparrow glared at him, his finger nails digging deep gouges in the soft leather. In the beginning of his rage, he threw the book into the fire place, flames licking at the creamy parchment.  
Jack heard his father approaching but kept staring downward, his hands limp at his sides. After the first few beatings he had learned to take them, and to try his best not to dwell on them. His eyes remained on the book, curling into their ashy doom much like Jack's dreams midst Lord Sparrow's wrath. The first stroke of the cane made his knees quiver.  
"You, stupid insolent boy! You're a disgrace to me!" The second weakened them as pain nearly overcame him.  
"Thought I wouldn't find out, did you? Thought you'd hide behind an illusion of normalcy?!" The third made them buckle, sending him down into the Persian carpet's well- known embrace.  
"Am I stupid to you? I know what goes on, I always do. You can't hide from me, my boy." The blood trickled down his back with the fourth stroke, running like his patience so carefully held.  
"What would your mother say, hm? You killed her. And you further dishonor her? She'd spit on you boy, crush you down." As the fifth fell he felt the iron tip hit the bone of his spine. His father hadn't used the cane in a while; it had mostly been his fists and an occasional book.  
"You filthy wretch, hiding amongst your stupid fairy tales. Time to grow up my boy!" Six strokes heralded the burlap screaming wrested from Jack's throat.  
"I should see you dead for disobeying me. You're lucky I'm as lenient as I am. Any other Lord would see their son dead." The seventh sent his chest to the floor, no longer able to give support against the strokes of the cane.  
"This'll teach you. Hold you at bay I would think. Won't be bringing home any more fairy tales now, will you my boy." Eight chipped the top of a vertebra, but not enough to kill. Do you even know my name? "I'll disown you, that's what I'll do. But it'll have to be discreet. None of the other Lord's can know. Ruin my image it would, your stupid prattling." Nine saw him passing out from pain.  
"Escape will you? Not while I'm here you won't. It's time for you to face facts my boy." And ten, to Jack's mind, never came. 


End file.
